


Stop

by CorsetJinx



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: F/F, Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-24
Updated: 2016-07-24
Packaged: 2018-07-26 08:58:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 320
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7568107
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CorsetJinx/pseuds/CorsetJinx
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Time is always moving. Except for when it stops and she falls between the cracks, missing things and people. Oh god, she doesn't want to be a ghost again.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Stop

“You must remember to breathe, _cherie._ ” She chides the shorter woman before her softly, hands for once not on her rifle as they hover in the no-man’s land of each other’s personal space. Tracer sucks in a gulp of air almost immediately in response and it does nothing at all to quiet her shaking.

Widowmaker represses the urge to sigh aloud. One at a time she folds her legs until she is kneeling beside Tracer and waits for what sounds suspiciously like a sob to die out before she speaks again.

“It is not the first time your accelerator has malfunctioned, is it?” She asks, already knowing the answer.

It is confirmed by the way Lena shudders, drawing in on herself as though she can hide from everything that way.

_Such a foolish girl_ , Widowmaker thinks.

Rather than comment she clicks her tongue against the roof of her mouth and coaxes Tracer into lifting her head so that their eyes meet. She doesn’t touch her, not even when it is so obvious that her temporary teammate wishes to be comforted.

“The date is May 20th, _cherie._ ” She tells her, tone matter-of-fact. Utterly calm. “It is now 22:03. You have barely missed three minutes.”

Widowmaker does not say ‘lost’ - partly because she has no proof that Tracer actually 'loses’ time when the device keeping her anchored does not operate smoothly.

Perhaps somewhere, in the back of her head where she does not care to linger for very long, she thinks it might be too cruel a reminder to use such a phrase.

“You promise?” Lena asks, eyes wide with a sort of fear that no mere bullet can instill. Her voice is tiny, desperate.

It is not a stretch to think that she might reach out just to prove to herself that this is real - though it never happens and Widowmaker tells herself that she is content for it.

_“Oui.”_


End file.
